


Aldren

by DemaciasBrokenWing



Category: League of Legends
Genre: definitely-not-scott is forcing me to post here again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 19:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemaciasBrokenWing/pseuds/DemaciasBrokenWing
Summary: During a vicious storm in Demacia, Garen reflects on a character-building time in his life.





	Aldren

Stronger storms always threatened Demacia between the transitioning month of Summer and Fall. It was something a Demacian was always prepared for. “Plan for the worst, hope for the best.” A common phrase the shopkeeps would spout as the clouds began to show a more wrathful side to their nature. This particular one had forced the people to stay indoors, tucked away safely where the walls of their sturdy houses would keep them safe. Even the soldiers of the military were holed up and awaiting the tempest to dissipate. There would be damage to assess and people to assist. Until then… the order was to stay safe.

Garen took that order a touch looser than he probably should have. In the manse of House Crownguard, the Demacian knight was sitting in a covered balcony, his eyes affixed upon the surging rains and howling winds. It was oddly calming to him, watching such a powerful storm… unlike so many years ago…

_His hands were gripped onto a beautifully woven dress of blue, face shoved into the leg of the wearer as small, whimpering noises were pushed into the fabric, muffling the cries of fear. A gentle hand smoothed through his head of thick brown hair._

_“There, there, Garen. It was only a tree that fell over, you need not be so afraid,” a calm, smoothing voice could be heard above the boy. Her blonde hair, pulled up and fashioned into a tight bun, could be barely made out in the looming darkness. The child glanced up and could make out the faint reflections of calm blue eyes and a patient, calm smile as her other arm held onto a small body, a snoozing younger sister. It was a miracle that crashing noise hadn’t stirred the toddler from her slumber._

_“B-But mommy, what if it flies into the foyer?” A youthful Garen asked as he blinked away tears that never had the chance to form._

_“If the winds are indeed that strong, then we’ll be in a safer location,” Sanya’s voice was elegant and soothing as ever, her hand still making long strokes through the boy’s locks. She tilted her head up, looking into the darkness of the master bedroom, all boarded up and prepared for the storm._

_“Aldren, darling! Have you found it?”_

_“Just found it, love,” A weathered, deep voice responded from the blackness. After a small moment of silence, the darkness was threatened with a dull glowing orange. The glow increased from around the corner until a tall, muscular man wearing a dark green tunic appeared, holding the source of light up— an oil lantern that helped bring some luminescence to the dreary scenario. Upon the face of the one holding the lantern, a small smile painted on the lips of a face peppered with handsome dark stubble and flowing hair tied into a neat braid. His eyes, a deep cobalt blue, sparkled with a genuine happiness. A box, marred in shadow, was tucked in his other arm._

_“This storm won’t be leaving us for quite some time, will it, son?” The man asked as he approached the boy and his wife. Garen’s eyes never left the man as he moved to set the box upon a nearby table, along with the lantern. A long arm reached out to beckon him forward._

_“Now will be the perfect time to teach you something I’ve been waiting for years to do.”_

_Garen’s distraught expression lessened as he heard his father speak. Letting go of Sanya, the boy slowly walked over to the man, swallowing down his fear of the winds that made the house creak and moan in mysterious ways._

_“Will we be doing more training, Dad…?” Garen asked._

_Aldren’s grin widened. “In a sense. Come. Sit.”_

_Garen heeded his father’s orders, and he moved to sit across from the man at the table. He looked down to the box, seeing a weathered, wooden square being decorated with black and white statues by Aldren. The man’s lips held their smile until he had finished setting all of the beautifully crafted figures atop of the patterned squares on top of the box’s surface._

_“I’m going to teach you how to play chess, Garen.”_

_The boy blinked._

_“Chess…? That’s not training…” His visage turned into one of slight disgust. If the boy wasn’t wielding a wooden training sword, then he wasn’t having fun._

_“Ah, patience, son. You cannot assume everything will be all guile and valor when you’re as old as I—there will come times when tact and thought will be your best friends.” Aldren placed a hand under his chin and smiled down at the disapproving glance of his son’s face. “And this will certainly help the time pass.”_

_Garen sighed. This wasn’t what he had in mind… but who was he to question his father’s choices?_

_“Yes, sir,” Garen replied with the enthusiasm of a blanket soaked by the rain._

_“Oh, come now. Entertain your father for just a moment, yes?” Sanya interjected. “If you don’t enjoy what you’re doing after at least two games—then he’ll stop. Is that fair?”_

_Garen contemplated the deal as he looked up to his mother, and then gave a small nod._

_Aldren’s chuckle was deep and warm._

_“Then let’s begin.”_

_The first game was mainly teaching. What each piece was. What each piece could do. What the objective of the game was. It was confusing at first for the young Demacian, but he was old enough to comprehend the aspects of the game in question. After a reset of the playing field, the second game was played._

_“Checkmate,” Aldren said smoothly after a matter of minutes. Garen’s mouth hung agape._

_“But… how?” Garen asked desperately, his eyes shooting up to his father with confusion and disappointment. “Th-that was only a warm up!”_

_Aldren’s chuckle echoed off the walls of the room. “Was it, now?” The man challenged. “Then perhaps we’ve another game in line, yes?”_

_Garen was already setting his pieces back up._

_The hours passed by. Sanya was back and forth, caring for the younger Luxanna whilst also checking upon her two favorite Demacian boys, who were now both engrossed into the contest at hand. All she really needed to do for them was put more oil in the lamp. Garen’s fear of the howling storm diminished as his focus turned to the game at hand. Each time his father said ‘checkmate,’ it only made the boy more focused to adapt and overcome. After a handful of games, the weather had started to die down… and Garen’s lids were starting to get heavy._

_“Ch…check…” Garen muttered as he moved a rook forward._

_Aldren looked down at the board. A good move. Very good. He looked like he was in a bad way… however…_

_“Checkmate,” Aldren responded after a swift move. “You almost had me there, son.”_

_Garen groaned as he rolled his head back in defeat. “This is impossible!” he lamented._

_Aldren’s smile returned. The warmth it brought was so full of assurance and respect._

_“You learned a great deal over this time, son… and the storm didn’t seem to bother you, now, did it? You look ready for a nap.”_

_Garen’s head rocked back to look at his father, and he answered with a small nod. “T-tomorrow… I want to keep playing. I want to win.”_

_The Demacian knight let out a hearty laugh as he stood up and stretched. “Do you? Well, you’ll need to have your full wits about you to do that, lad. Now, it is time to rest.” Taking Garen’s hand, Aldren led his son towards his room, placing him into his bed and tucking him in._

_“I love you, Garen. Gods watch over your dreams.”_

_“I love you, too, Dad.”_

_It had seemed the younger Demacian had gotten some good training in on that stormy night, after all…_

Garen’s breath hitched. He could feel warmth come to his eyes, but he blinked the blurring tears out of his vision, his eyes still upon the dark assault from nature, itself. He missed his father… but the lessons he learned had stuck with him throughout all these years. A worthless block of steel at first… but then patiently and personally crafted by hands that had once been the same. Now. That block of steel was a shimmering greatsword… a true son of Demacia. Even still, Garen woke up wishing he could be half the man Aldren ever was. With a deep sigh, he turned back into the manse, taking the lantern that was awaiting him inside.

“Luxanna…!” Garen called out to his sister, making his way toward her room. “Would you want to play a game of chess?”


End file.
